havenât got anything.â
âYou need an income. Iâve just been offered more than three times what Iâm on now . . . No, thatâd be mad. Wouldnât it?â I havenât drunk as much as she has, but Iâve had a fair bit.
âWhatâs the prollem?â she slurs, wide-eyed. âNo one needs to find out apart from you and me. Laurieâs right: if you blow this chance, everyoneâll think youâre a dick. And if you hoard your wealth like a Scroogey miser . . .â
âSo this is the great challenge that was missing from your life? Forcing me to take a job I donât want so that you can nick half my salary?â Iâm not even sure she means what sheâs saying. I wait for her to tell me sheâs only kidding.
âYou wouldnât have to fund me for ever,â she says instead. âJust until I sort myself out with a new career. Iâd quite like to work for the UN, as an interpreter.â
I sigh. âDo you speak anything, apart from English and Pissed?â
âI could learn. Russian and French is a good combination, apparently. I did some Googling before I left the office. For the last time ever ,â she adds pointedly, reminding me of her hard-done-by status. âIf youâve got those two languages . . .â
âWhich you havenât.â
â. . . then all you needâs a translation qualification, which you can get at Westminster Uni, and the UNâll snap you up.â
âWhen? In four yearsâ time?â
âMore like six.â
âHow about I support you while you look for a job in your field ?â I stress the last three words. âWith your track record, you could get one tomorrow.â
âNo, thanks,â says Tamsin. âNo more TV for me. TVâs the rut I was stuck in until today. Iâm serious, Fliss. Ever since I left university, Iâve been a wage-slave. I donât want to rush out and find new shackles, now that Iâm free. I want to do some living â walk in the park, go ice-skating . . .â
âWhat happened to learning French and Russian?â I ask.
She waves away my concern. âThereâs plenty of time for that. Maybe Iâll see if thereâs a local evening class or something, but mainly I want to . . . take stock, walk around, soak up the atmosphere . . .â
âYou live in Wood Green.â
âCould you stretch to a flat in Knightsbridge if Iâm willing to settle for one bedroom?â
âStop,â I tell her, deciding the joke has gone on long enough. âThis is exactly why I donât want to be rich. I donât want to turn into the sort of person who thinks itâs my God-given right to have more cash than I know what to do with and keep it all for myself. Here I am listening to you witter on, thinking, âWhy should I give half my hard-earned fortune to an idle waster?â Iâm already turning into that Scroogey miser you mentioned earlier and I havenât even said Iâll take the job!â
Tamsin blinks at me, her powers of comprehension impaired by alcohol. Eventually she says, âYouâd resent me.â
âProbably, yes. The ice-skating might just tip me over the edge.â
She nods. âThatâs okay. I wouldnât hold it against you. You can call me a feckless scrounger to my face, if you like, as long as I get my share of the money. Iâd rather be insulted by you than have to tout myself round prospective employers feeling the way I do nowâunwanted and worthless. What am I talking about?â She slaps herself on the wrist, then hits my leg, hard. âLook what youâve doneâyour negativityâs totally dragged me down!â
âIâm turning down the job, Tam.â
She groans.
âWhich means Iâll probably get my marching orders too by the end of the week. We can go to the National Portrait Gallery together.â
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